


A Firefighter's First Love (or how a hero is inspired)

by kittykatknits



Series: Jon Snow in Uniform [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon is a Fireman, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sam is a reporter, childhood crush, literally one line, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-08 18:12:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: Jon Snow is Winterfell's biggest hero thanks to a recent picture in the Winterfell Tribune. Sam Tarly, local reporter, is tasked with getting his interview. As the two men talk, Sam realizes the big story involves a little girl Jon once knew and it's the sort of story that could make his career.There's only one big problem...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annarosym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annarosym/gifts), [chocolateghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateghost/gifts), [asongforjonsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongforjonsa/gifts), [pinkyrai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkyrai/gifts), [Castalya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalya/gifts), [Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies/gifts).



> 1\. This fic is based upon a dream I had last week and needed to get it written down before memory faded. I can't be the only jon/sansa shipper who dreams about them. Please tell me I'm not?  
> 2\. I'm gifting this to some incredibly supportive readers of not just me but many other Jonsa writers out there too! Your comments are so incredibly motivating! Thank you!

_Winterfell Tribune_

_March 1st, 2017_

_Animal Shelter Saved by Firefighter Heroes_

_A fire broke out yesterday at the Winterfell Animal Shelter at approximately 2:30 PM. No loss of life, human or animal, was reported due to the quick response of local fire company 2, led by our newest hometown hero, Jon Snow._

 

The local firehouse was a single large building of faded brick with three garage bays and a tower-like structure rising up from the middle. Sam walked through the sole bay that didn’t have a fire engine blocking his path. There was no one ready to greet him, which he expected. He could hear men’s voices and shouts though, he wasn’t alone.

Sam stopped a giant of a man with flaming red hair. “Excuse me, do you know where I can find Jon Snow?”

“You the reporter?”

He pulled his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Sam Tarly. Winterfell Tribune.” He held out his hand and did a passably decent job at not wincing from the pain when the firefighter took it. “I’m here to interview Jon Snow.”

“Good luck.” The man chortled, causing his barrel chest shake. “Hey, where’s Snow?” he yelled up towards the top of a fire truck.

A second man, with the largest pair of ears Sam could recall ever seeing before, appeared. “He’s hiding under the hose. Give me a minute and I’ll get him for you.”

Sam pushed up his glasses again. Jon Snow didn’t want to do the interview any more than he did. He’d started his job at the local paper a couple years ago with dreams of covering local politics, city hall, and the mayor’s office. Sam had hoped it would leave him to an eventual job at one of the large national papers. Instead, he found himself writing for the society pages with the occasional human interest story thrown in.

This interview was mostly a public relations stunt by the Winterfell Fire Department. Jon Snow had the bad luck to be photographed carrying out a pair of newborn puppies and the paper’s Facebook page was deluged with questions about the hometown hero. The Tribune hoped to increase their subscription rates and the WFD, well Sam didn’t quite know what the WFD hoped to gain.

“Snow will be along. I threatened to give the entire interview for him if he didn’t show up.” He jumped down from the ladder on the truck’s edge, landing smoothly in front of Sam. “I’m Pyp, Jon Snow’s handsome and charming co-worker.”

“Sam, Winterfell Tribune.”

A third man jumped from the same spot previously occupied by Pyp, sporting the same dark blue pants and t-shirt with the WFD insignia on the pocket as the other two men Sam had encountered. Pyp may still claim the charming title, but he’d lost the handsome. Jon Snow was muscular with a broad chest and flat stomach, a hazard of the job in Sam’s opinion. He had dark gray eyes too, the sort women swooned over, and perfect red bow-shaped lips. Sam suspected he’d stumbled upon the reason Jon Snow, hometown hero, generated so much interest.

“Do you have a place we can talk in private, Mr. Snow?”

“Jon, please. No one calls me that.” He sighed as if resigned to the fate of death by firing squad. “Follow me.”

They walked in silence to what looked to be a private office. There was a cluttered wooden desk against the far wall although Sam guessed it was hardly used. Jon Snow ignored it in favor of a small conference table where they sat opposite the other.

Sam decided to start with a few easy questions. In his experience, it made interview subjects more likely to open up later in the conversation. “How long have you been a firefighter, Jon?”

“Three years.”

“What made you pick this job?”

“I…” Jon Snow’s lip and cheek ticked. It was brief but Sam noticed it all the same. “I liked the idea of helping people, I guess.”

That wasn’t the entire truth, Sam would stake the entirety of his pathetic career on it. “You’re a hero to everyone in the city now. Not for saving people, but homeless animals. Did you know the adoption rate in this city has skyrocketed since your picture appeared in the paper?”

“Animals need homes too.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. Sam needed to try something else if he was going to get his five hundred words of interview. “I understand your company adopted the two puppies you rescued. Can you tell me their names?” It was the picture of him with the two newborn puppies that started all this. A lone fireman, with a pair of rescued baby animals in his arms, face covered in soot, and a wall of smoke and flames behind him. It was an image that inspired curiosity. And a reluctant Jon Snow, apparently.

He perked up at their mention. “They’re siblings. Ghost and Lady.”

Well, that did it. “How did you find them?”

“I can’t really say. We thought the main wing of the adoption center was cleared out. I started leaving with Pyp and Grenn. You met Pyp?” Sam had, he was the charming one. “Well, I thought I heard something so I went back to one of the adoption rooms.”

Sam leaned forward, curious. “What did you hear?”

“I don’t know.” Jon Snow sat uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not enjoying the conversation. Sam wondered if he’d confided this story before. “I found them in a large crate. Lady was already unconscious from the smoke and her brother, Ghost, was nosing at her. The thing is, there’s something wrong with his voice. Ghost doesn’t even whimper. I heard them though.”

“Somehow they managed to reach you,” he said quietly. Sam’s instinct was growing from a loud whisper to a dull roar. There was a larger story to Jon Snow, more than a simple fluff piece.

As if hearing their names, two puppies came rambling in through the crack in the office door. One was all white, not a hint of color to be found on him. The other was smaller with gray and white fur. She sat primly, one front paw crossed over the other. Her brother stood in front, ready to go to battle for his little sister.

“You named them well,” Sam said humorously. “Lady. Is that a reference to the ladies in the old songs?” His mother used to read all the children’s fairy tales to him at bedtime. “Naerys and the Dragon Knight or Jonquil and her Florian.“

Jon’s gray eyes pierced him. “You’re the first person to mention that.”

Sam’s angle was close, he could almost see it. He deliberated over what to say next. It was the story names that drew his attention more than anything so he could pull that at that string a little more. “I know they’re only children’s fables but there is still a certain magic to them, isn’t there? At least, that’s what my mother always told me.” He picked up his pen and waited.

“Do you really want to know why I became a firefighter?”

“Yes.”

Jon Snow looked down into his lap. “Her name is Sansa Stark. We met when we were children and I fell in love with her almost instantly.”

Here we go, Sam thought.

*****

_Thirteen years ago….._

Jon stared out his bedroom window, hoping for a glimpse into the house next door. He had two whole weeks of playing with the Starks before they moved away and he wanted to have as much fun with them as he could. Jon couldn’t see anybody but he didn’t care at all. He dashed from his room and down the stairs before hollering at his mom that he was going next door.

He knocked on the Stark’s front door and waited.

“Hey.” It was Robb, still in his pajamas and a blanket wrapped around him. “I can’t play outside today. I don’t feel good.”

“Oh.” Jon’s shoulders slumped. He’d hoped to go skateboarding with Robb and even Arya if she wanted. “I’m sorry. Is Bran or Arya here?” He could still play Nintendo with them or go wandering in the woods behind their houses. There was an old Weirwood they climbed on sometimes. Bran was a great climber.

“Nah. My mom took the three little ones out with her.” This day now sucked. “Sansa is in the backyard making one of her stories if you want to go hang out with her.”

The girl Jon had a giant crush on. “I guess so.” He was super excited only Jon didn’t want Robb to know. He hadn’t told anyone how he felt about Sansa.

He found her in the backyard, on the far edge of her mother’s flower garden. She wore her hair in a long braid down her back and had on a pair of pedal pushers and matching tank top. Jon thought she looked really pretty.

“What’cha doing?” He could already tell. She had her colored pencils and notebook out. “Are those trolls?” Sansa had set up what looked like a family of troll dolls amongst the flowers. There were twigs on the dirt floor too.

“They’re the children of the forest. I only had the little trolls to use. You want to hang out with me?”

He really, really did. “I guess so. Are you making another story?”

Sansa loved to write and draw stories. She had a talent for it and had made little books for all of her siblings, even him. She made Robb a comic where he was a hero-king saving his people from an evil family. A couple years ago, Bran had broken both his legs in an accident so couldn’t walk. Sansa made him a book where he was a great wizard who could control animals and do all sorts of stuff. The book he loved most though was his. She turned him into a knight that had to defeat an evil queen and a Mockingbird to save a princess and take her home to her people. Jon kept the book in a small box with all his prized things.

“Her name is Leaf and this is her family.” She pointed out the bright pink troll who Jon guessed was Leaf. “You can sit down if you want.”

He wanted to. “Is Leaf going to save people?”

Sansa picked up a dark green pencil and started to draw. “She doesn’t want to live at home with the children anymore. She’s leaving to go meet people.”

Jon laid down in the soft grass and rested his chin on his palms to watch. She picked up the pink pencil next. Jon had always figured the children would be green since forests were green too but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “Who is she going to meet?”

“Not just people. A dog and a fool. I think an evil queen too.”

“Does she go ever go home?”

“Eventually. Her mom sends someone to go after her.” Sansa pulled a small plastic lion from where it rested at her side. “I’m calling him Lion Boy.”

“Lions don’t save the children. They eat  them.” Everyone knew that. It was totally obvious.

“I could make a hero prince instead if you want.”

“Yeah, do that. A northern one that wears fur. With dark hair.” Like me, Jon thought.

“And gray eyes.”

That made him sad. “I’ll miss you.” Jon started to freak. “All of you, I’ll miss all of you. A whole lot.” There was no way Jon would ever tell Sansa that he might be in love with her. She’d probably laugh at him. No, he thought, changing his mind, she would be really nice and then offer to make him a story.

“It’s my dad’s stupid job. I don’t want to go to Oldtown. It’s boring there.” Sansa’s face fell and her jaw started to quiver. Jon thought she was going to cry. He could hug her if she cried. “My aunt and both my uncles still live here in Winterfell. My mom says we will be back for Christmas. So, you’ll see us again soon. Next summer too.”

Jon thrilled at the idea of it. Her siblings were like his brothers and sister too. The rest of his summer was going to be lonely without them. “That’s great,” he said excitedly. “We can have snowball fights.”

“And build snowmen.”

“White walkers, like from the old fairy tales.”

The next two weeks passed super fast. He went skateboarding with Robb and Arya many times. He helped Sansa take Rickon to the playground once too. Finally, the day came when he woke up to see a moving van in front of the Stark home. Jon felt like crying. He dressed, ate a bowl of cereal, and wandered next door.

Bran, Rickon, and Arya were all over at their aunt’s house though. Robb was doing a bunch of work for his dad so Jon went into their backyard where he found Sansa staring up into an old oak tree.

“Are you going to climb it?” He’d never seen Sansa climb a tree. Besides, she was wearing a pretty yellow dress.

“There’s a stray kitten up there. He’s stuck.” Her eyes were red.

Jon looked where she indicated. Sure enough, a gray and white kitten sat on one of the branches. He could barely hear its mewling. “He can come down whenever he wants,” Jon replied. Cats were good climbers, everyone knew that. “Please don’t be sad.”

“I’ve been here a whole hour waiting. If he doesn’t come down, he’ll starve to death and die all alone thinking no one loved him,” she cried.

“I could get him if you want. I’m not as good as Bran but I can try,” Jon said.

Sansa’s breath hitched and she made a sound he thought sounded like a hiccup. “Get him. Oh, please Jon.”

So Jon jumped up on the nearest branch and started to climb. It took him only a few minutes to reach the kitten. It didn’t move, only staring at him and making shy meows. “Hey, little guy. I won’t hurt you. Do you want to meet my princess?” He reached out and grabbed the kitten and pulled him close. “Gotcha.” The climb down was slower but the kitten didn’t fight. Instead, it dug its claws into his t-shirt and purred most of the way down.

He jumped off the final branch and was greeted with Sansa thanking him and calling him a hero. It made Jon uncomfortable. He’d mostly done it to impress her. “I’m going to keep him. My mom will let me.” That would impress her more and Jon hoped his mom let him keep his new pet.

“He needs a name. What’s his name?”

Jon hadn’t thought about it. “Fluffy?” he asked.

“No, that’s not a good name.” She pet the kitten while it was still in his arms. “Ser Pounce.”

“Ser Pounce.”

Sansa sat down and picked up her notebook and pencil set. “I want to make you something.” Jon moved opposite her and watched in silence. “It’s a fireman, a real-life hero just like you.”

Jon took the sheet of notebook paper. It was a fireman in red, with dark hair and eyes like him, saving a kitten in a tree. “I’m not a hero.”

“You saved a kitten today. Saving people is what heroes do.”

Heroes were brave too. She was leaving him and Jon never told her that he had a crush on her since they were little.  “I want to tell you something. I have for a long time.” Jon breathed deep. “I think I’m in love with you,” he said quietly. Jon started to pick at the laces on his shoes.

“I think I’m in love with you too.” Sansa’s face was almost as red as her hair. “You...you could give me a goodbye kiss if you wanted.”

He didn’t know how. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“I haven’t either. You’d be my first kiss.” Sansa closed her eyes and her face angled forward some, waiting for him.

Jon smooshed his lips together and then tentatively pressed them to hers. He counted to two and then pulled away. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too.”

She’d be back though, all of them would be. Jon told himself winter was coming soon and he would see her again.

******

Jon quieted then and he stared off at some spot over Sam’s shoulders. Curious, he turned his head but it was only a bookshelf filled with what appeared to be training manuals.

“Thank you for sharing your story with me.” His reporter’s instinct or intuition or whatever it was had proven correct. Jon Snow, the rescuer of puppies, made for a good story. But Jon Snow, the man who was still inspired by his first love, that was the sort of story that could win Sam awards. “Childhood sweethearts.”

Jon Snow smiled sadly. “I guess we were. Some people have to wait years and years before meeting the person meant for them. I did it when we were still kids.”

“What happened next?”

“What do you mean?”

“I wondered about the rest of the story….” Sam trailed off, hoping to keep his subject talking.

“There is no more to the story,” he said. Jon’s eyes went soft and unfocused again, only seeing memories from long ago. “I never saw her again after that day.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading...Sansa's flashback is a full year before the one with Jon in the first chapter.

“You never made any effort to contact her?”

“It wasn’t easy when we were kids. I thought about it a few times after but never did.”

“Why not?”

“She’s probably married to some guy who’s completely mad for her. Now, after all these years, if I were to reach out? I’d look like some sort of creeper. Besides, she’s probably forgotten all about me.”

“What would you say if you saw her again?”

“How could I ever answer a question like that? I’d say...I’d say...shit….you’re not going to publish this are you?”

Sam pressed stop on his voice recorder and stared at the firehouse. It looked the same as it did an hour ago, the same faded brick and tower. The building was different to him now though. Jon Snow stood at the edge of one of the large garage bays, watching him sit in his car. His expression wasn’t angry and the earlier sense of pained resignation was gone. He lifted his arm, moved his hand the barest amount, and went back inside. The building was indeed very different. Now, it contained a man who was more than a story to him. Sam turned the ignition and drove away.

Back at his tiny cubicle in the Tribune offices, Sam sat in an uncomfortable office chair with its poor back support and opened his laptop. Curious, he typed Sansa Stark into Google to see what came up. No social media other than a Facebook page that was once created and never updated. He found a couple links to local Oldtown news sites listing her as a grant winner for something or other but that was over seven years ago. 

Sam went to the nearby vending machine to get what was probably his fifth Mountain Dew of the day. His earlier question still lingered in his head. What would Jon say if he saw her again? More, how much of this story did he want to tell? Sam knew the answer almost before he could finish the thought. He returned to his desk and picked up the phone. “Hey, Gilly. Can you meet me in the conference room in five minutes? I could use your help with something.”

Jon Snow was wrong. There was more to the story and Sam intended to write it. 

*****

“Well, what do you think? There’s a story here, isn’t there?”

Gilly tapped Sam’s voice recorder, contemplating. Jon Snow’s tale was both beautiful and bittersweet. It was a rare thing to find someone who inspires you so deeply the legacy is still felt many years later. It made Gilly think of her ex-husband and their short, miserable marriage. There was always a second chance, and once or twice, she found herself hoping hers lay with Sam. “Even if you do nothing else, this will sell a lot of papers.”

Sam blushed and his eyes crinkled in that shy way of his. “What if we do something more? Together.”

“Sharing the byline?” Sam shoved his glasses and nodded. “Then I think we should find Sansa Stark.” An opportunity to work with Sam and see her name in print, Gilly would be an idiot to refuse. 

“I already did a quick search and found nothing. All we know is she had red hair and liked making kid’s comic books.”

“And she lived in Oldtown.” Sam’s description of the mysterious woman poked at her. Gilly had that frustrating sensation, a vague memory tickling her mind but not quite in her grasp. “Can you play the story descriptions again?”

The conference room was silent other than Jon Snow’s deep voice describing stories of a boy wizard who talked with animals and a hero king who fought to save his family. 

“What is it?” Sam asked.

Gilly tapped her nails against her thumb, trying to remember. “I think I’ve heard those before. Hold on.” She flipped open her laptop to search her Amazon purchase history. “Oh, that’s not good. Maybe I was wrong.”

“What? What is it?” Sam looked over her shoulder, realizing. “They’re all written by Alayne Stone. We should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.”

“Maybe it is.” Gilly entered the writer’s name into Google and shrieked. “Alayne Stone. Lives in Winterfell and would you look at that? It’s her. I know it is.”

“Right hair color. Wrong name. How do we know?”

“Only one way to find out. I’m calling Baratheon Publishing for an interview.” It would be hers too, Gilly wanted that byline. 

It took all of four days to arrange the interview. The only demand made by the mysterious Ms. Stone was a chance to approve the copy before it went to print. It was a request quickly agreed to. They met at a small coffee shop conveniently located only a block away from Jon Snow’s station. If this was his lost Sansa, a potential reunion could easily take place. 

Gilly arrived first and ordered coffee for both of them before nabbing a small table towards the back. She’d just finished setting out her notebook and pen when the door chime sounded. It was her, Gilly knew it instantly. Her hair was a rich auburn, long and thick. She wore it partially up with the rest cascading down her back. Sansa was dressed casually in a blue summer dress and a light sweater. Her smile was warm but professional. Unlike the uncomfortable Jon Snow, Sansa Stark had done many an interview.

“Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I was happy too. Edric, my editor, says your nephew is quite the fan of my work.” She spoke easily, almost by rote. 

Sansa Stark was probably used to a familiar litany of questions, upcoming book plans or where she drew inspiration. Gilly wanted those answers but she had a different purpose too. “He is.” They exchanged a couple minutes of polite banter while waiting for the coffee to arrive. Gilly took a sip, telling herself she needed to start somewhere. “How long have you been drawing?”

She laughed. “I think before I could write. I started formal training in my teens and then went to an art school in Oldtown.”

Gilly asked a few more questions about her methods and approach to writing and then breathed deep. “What made you cast children as the heroes in your books?”

Sansa hesitated. “My hope is to inspire them so they see the strength they already have.” She’d given that answer before, even if there was a short delay giving it.

She needed a different sort of question. Most reporters would be satisfied with that answer and move on. Of course, most reporters hadn’t spoken with Jon Snow first either. “Who was it that helped you find the strength inside yourself?”

Sansa blinked and drew back, clearly not expecting that. “What do you mean?”

“As a child, who led you to write your stories? I get the impression it was someone very important.” 

She fiddled with a napkin and Gilly noticed the lack of a wedding band. “There was someone once. I haven’t seen him since I was a little girl.” She released the napkin and started to wring her hands together. “Every time I start a new story, I picture him cheering me on just as he did the first time.”

“What’s his name?” Gilly knew but she wanted to hear it all the same. 

“His name is Jon Snow. We met when we were children and I fell in love with him almost instantly.” 

Gilly felt a chill. She and Sam were about to have a great story. She hoped the same could be said for Jon and Sansa. She picked up her pen and started to write. 

*****

_ Fourteen years ago…. _

Sansa pulled out her box of colored pencils and drawing notebook as soon as the bell for recess clanged. Mrs. Mordane would let her sit quietly at the lunch tables during recess most days to draw since she was the best student in the class. Most of her drawings were fairy tales because she loved the old Maester Aemon stories most of all. She liked to pretend they were real even if they were only made up stories. Nymeria was Arya’s favorite but Sansa thought it was boring. Besides, a whole country full of people on ships sounded silly to her. 

Sansa picked the gray pencil to start drawing Summerhall when she noticed Joffrey and his friend Meryn approaching her. She glanced about but couldn’t see Mrs. Mordane or any other teachers nearby. Joffrey was in the same grade as Robb and Jon but he mostly picked on the younger kids. One time, Robb and Joffrey got into a fight by the jungle gym but Theon stopped it before any of the teachers saw. 

She was going to be the next kid they bullied. 

“Hey, kid! What are you doing sitting here all alone?” Joffrey didn’t stop after asking her that but went right past as if he didn’t see Sansa at all. 

She glanced over her shoulder and saw poor Dontos Hollard sitting all by himself. Dontos was in her grade and sometimes acted like the class clown even if he didn’t have any friends. Sansa heard that most of his family died when he was just a baby and now he lived with an uncle. She felt sorry for him sometimes. 

Poor Dontos stood up and then Meryn kicked him while Joffrey laughed. Dontos backed up and she thought Meryn was going to kick him again. Sansa looked again but didn’t see any teachers. Robb and Jon were playing but they were super far away.

“You leave him alone!” Sansa thought she might cry. She didn’t know how to fight like Robb or Jon did, or even Arya. “If you kick Dontos, I’ll tell on you. I’ll tell Mr. Lannister on you!”

Mr. Lannister was the school’s vice principal and Joffrey was sent to go see him once. He’d looked super scared afterward. “I’m not afraid of my Uncle. He can’t hurt me.”

“Yes, he can. He’s in charge of us. Mr. Lannister will believe me too.”

Joffrey elbowed Meryn. “Let’s go. Spoilsport here is ruining our fun.” He had that mean face of his but Sansa thought she might have scared him a little. 

Dontos didn’t say anything, he only stood there looking sad. “Do you want to draw with me?” She offered him a pencil and sheet of paper. Sansa felt brave, maybe even as brave as Danny Flint. She faced a bunch of bullies and then took over the Night’s Watch, at least that’s what Maester Aemon’s story said. 

Later that day, Sansa went to go play alone in her backyard. She wanted to make a story with Jenny and Duncan, but with a happy ending. 

“Hi, Sansa.” 

It was Jon. Sometimes he made her tummy flutter in ways she didn’t understand. He was always nice to her, unlike Theon who teased her sometimes. “Hi, Jon,” she greeted. “Robb is inside if you want to play.”

“I brought you something.” He held a blue rose in his hand. A few petals were missing and it appeared he ripped the stem apart. “Don’t tell my mom though. I’ll get in trouble for stealing it.”

No one ever gave her a flower before. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Thank you.” Sansa felt like she was going to cry again. It was the most romantic thing ever. “Do you want to play with me?”

Jon laid down next to her and rested his chin on his hands. “I saw you today during recess. That was really brave.”

“I thought I was going to cry,” she admitted. 

“Do you remember when your dad taught me and Robb how to ride our bikes?” She nodded her head. Sansa could only ride a tricycle then but she remembered. “I fell over once and started crying. He made me get back on because you have to when you’re afraid.”

“My dad is really smart.” 

“Yeah.” He picked up her Jenny doll and twirled its hair between his fingers. “What are you making?”

She explained her idea. “It’s different than Maester Aemon’s story though. I never changed his stories before.”

Jon dropped the doll to pick up her notebook. “You should make up your own stories like he did. His stories are all about his family. You should do the same thing.”

Sansa couldn’t do that. “I’m not famous like he is.”

“You could be. Besides, everyone knows he isn’t real.” He pointed to one of her drawings. “Is that Arya?” Arya was wearing one of her costumes. She said it made it easier to be a secret agent without people knowing. “You could make one with her. Or you. A story where the princess saves everyone from an evil prince.”

She tried to imagine it. Sansa could be a famous writer. She would be a very good famous person. Everyone would want to know her and they would want to read her stories too. She’d be a real Maester Aemon. “I could make you a story. If you wanted that is.” Sansa gripped her pencil tight and looked at the grass instead of Jon. That way, she couldn’t see if he was making fun of her not. Sansa would cry if Jon made fun of her. 

“Could I watch? I can play with you today. Besides, Robb and I were only going to go skateboarding anyways.” Sansa thought he looked really happy to be with her. She hoped so. She liked Jon the best of all Robb’s friends. 

Her tummy fluttered again. “I’m going to call your story The Last Hero.” Sansa wondered if he’d help her write a story again another day. 

*****

Sansa closed her eyes and smiled. It was the images behind her lids, memories of long ago that brought the smile. “He was the first boy I kissed. The boy that inspired me and still does every day.” She opened her eyes, leaving Gilly struck by their deep blue shade. “He’s still out there, somewhere. There are times I wonder, does he ever think of me as much as I think of him?”

Sam was more correct than he realized. The story of Winterfell’s newest hero reunited with his lost childhood love, the girl who drew him to such a heroic career, was a good story. That Jon Snow did the same, helping to create the writer that inspires children, made for a great story. Gilly wanted to know its ending and she wanted to be the one to write it. “Would you like to find out?”

******

Sam parked in front of the now familiar firehouse. The awaited text message from Gilly came two minutes later. He stared at his voice recorder and some instinct led him to leave it on the passenger seat before getting out of the car. He wasn’t expected. Jon Snow hadn’t enjoyed the first interview and Sam guessed he wouldn’t be receptive to another visit. 

He walked through the lone empty bay but there was only one man to be found. Sam remembered the big ears. “Hi. Pyp, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. You back for more? Jon moped for a good couple days after you left,” he said somewhat defensively. 

“I’m sorry. If it helps, I’m here because I think I know what will help.” Sam shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He really needed a better fitting pair. “Could you get him for me?”

“I will but if you leave him crying afterwards, be warned that we’ll come after you. We know where you work.”

“He won’t, promise.” Sam hoped so at least. Gilly’s text message almost promised a happy ending.

Jon Snow appeared less than a minute later. He wore the same blue pants and t-shirt with the WFD logo on it. He was sweaty this time around, the hair along his temple and brow were damp. “Is there something else I can do for you, Mr. Tarly?” The two puppies, Ghost and Lady, tagged along behind him.

“Sam, please. Could we speak in private for a minute?” He followed Jon to the same office where they’d previously met. The puppies came along too. “Are they going to become station house mascots?”

Jon chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. They’re here temporarily so care is available all the time because of my long hours. They’re mine.”

No point delaying. Sam hoped he could keep his promise about the lack of tears. He hoped he didn’t get kicked out of the fire station either. “I’m here because I never got an answer to my question. What would you say if you saw her again?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that. “Sansa? I’m not sure I understand.”

“You will in a minute. Will you come with me? I want to show you something.” Sam opened the door to lead him outside

Jon didn’t move. “Is this some sort joke? Look, I get the WFD wants to use me for some PR opportunity but I was only doing my job.”

“This isn’t a joke,” he promised. Sam fumbled about for a better explanation. If he couldn’t explain this to Jon, then Sam would find it difficult to convince further interview subjects to open up to him. “I planned for five hundred words of an article when we first spoke but you have me intrigued.There’s a lot more than five hundred words here and I’m planning on writing every single one of them. Now do you want a chance to answer that question or not?”

“Lead the way.” He sounded breathless and unsure as if he didn’t quite understand what Sam asked. Or, more likely, not trusting that he’d heard correctly. 

Sam led him back towards his car and indicated a pair of women walking towards them. Sam knew one quite well. The other was a stranger. “Here’s your chance. Now, what are you going to say?”

Jon’s expression changed but Sam could not describe it. He saw fear, confusion, hope, and awe all at once. His eyes were round and his mouth open. “Sansa?” he asked, somehow finding his voice.

*****

His heart pounded. She hadn’t said a word but Jon knew it was her. Sansa’s hair was a couple shades darker but otherwise the same. He knew those eyes too, the blue he’d stare into when he thought she didn’t notice. 

Sansa covered her mouth before drawing her hand away and then covering it again. “Jon,” she breathed.

He didn’t know what to say. How do you catch up on a lifetime in only a single conversation? Cautiously, Jon reached out to touch her but he couldn’t quite stop the slight tremble in his hand. “Are you real?” He supposed that answered the reporter’s question.

She smiled tremulously. “It’s me,” she said before grabbing his hand and drawing it to her cheek. “I’m real.”

Jon thought he heard Sam Tarly say something about contacting him in a few days and he may have responded to him. He couldn’t be sure. He was afraid to so much as look away from Sansa. She hadn’t come back the last time. “Where did you go? We were going to make White Walkers together.”

“You would have defeated them and saved the world.” She remembered their last conversation too then. “My parents ended up making different Christmas plans that year and then one year slipped into another.”

He got it. Sansa made the same foolish assumption he did. “I was afraid you’d forgotten me.”

“Never. I’m a writer because of you.” Sansa took his hand into her own to twine their fingers together. “How could I forget the little boy who set me down this path in the first place?”

He still had the first book she’d made for him. The paper edges were curled somewhat and a few corners had small tears. It sat in a small chest with other keepsakes from his childhood. “Your success is your own,” he replied sheepishly. If Sansa made it professionally, he wasn’t the least surprised. He indicated the station house behind him. “You did the same for me. Can you stay a while? I want to show you something.”

“I can stay.” Not for a while, he noted. Jon wondered if she meant it the way he hoped. “I don’t need to be anywhere...well, all day really.”

“Then stay all day,” he said. To his ears, it sounded more like pleading than any sort of request. “Please. Sorry, I’m having a hard time thinking clearly.”

“Same here.”

He led her inside to Captain Mormont’s office. It was always empty, the station captain hated sitting behind a desk as much as the rest of them. Jon whistled sharply and waited. It took only a few seconds until he heard the scratch of tiny paws against the tile floor. Ghost came in first, as he always did, before taking his place in front of his sister.

Sansa squealed with delight as he knew she would. “Who is this?” She sat on the floor next to the puppies. “You’re a proper lady, aren’t you?” 

Jon followed her and watched in silence as Lady bounded into her lap. “That’s her name. This one here is Ghost.” The ghost of a past memory came to him, of another rescued animal. Ser Pounce was still with him, although he spent more time sleeping than pouncing these days. “You were the first girl I ever kissed.”

“You were the first boy I ever kissed.”

He had told himself to be brave that day. She was leaving and Jon knew he might never have the chance to tell her his feelings. It was much the same now, he realized. Only Sansa was coming back into his life. “You were the only girl I ever loved.” He started to pick at the laces of his shoes and then stopped. He wasn’t a boy anymore.

Sansa stared down at the puppies scrambling about in her lap before meeting his eyes. Her own glistened and he knew. “I’m not leaving this time.”

*****

_ Winterfell Tribune _

_ March 1st, 2018 _

_ Hometown Hero Marries Lost Love _

_ By Gilly Wilder and Sam Tarly _

_ The story that has captured Winterfell for the past year has finally come to an end. Jon Snow, Winterfell’s famous hero, married Sansa Stark, famed children’s writer, by the old Winterfell Heart Tree. Ghost and Lady served as Best Man and Maid of Honor. Other attendees included…. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about the Alayne Stone pen name. Sansa started her career with it because a pen name sounded romantic. That's all. I was too lazy to explain all of it in this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Wondering where Sansa is? She'll be appearing in the next chapter.....


End file.
